


comfort of frailties

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Claude, Dimitri, and attempts at forming a bond that will withstand the test of time.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 117





	comfort of frailties

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you dimiclaude for getting me out of my writing block.  
> just a few things! this fic is a collaboration work with [@requiemofkings](https://twitter.com/requiemofkings) on twitter, whose part of the collab you will see at the end of the fic.   
> thank you very much [who](https://twitter.com/hardkourparcore) for the beta as always!  
> nothing else, please comment or come talk to me on twit at wordglitch about dimiclaude and claude in general

Harpstring Moon’s nights had a chill to them that wasn’t quite cold, nor the discomfort of Fódlan winter that left Claude shivering no matter how many blankets he wrapped himself in. It was a pleasant fresh breeze that brought with it the dew of the next morning, and while some dampness clung onto his clothes, it was bearable enough that he didn’t mind spending several hours outside and relishing in it. That same breeze found Claude hanging from the window of Dimitri’s room and waiting for the prince to let him in. Crossing over had been easy, for the most part, though the Garreg Mach architecture heavily favored being slippery; this kind of room invasion was far easier at home, where most rooms of the palace had a balcony.

The window pulled open with a creak, and Claude raised his hand in the air to wave it and ask for help. Dimitri’s head peeked outside and the two met eyes for a brief second in which Claude offered a smile as innocent as he could, and Dimitri’s apparent confusion was replaced by acceptance as he pulled Claude inside the room. It wasn’t the first time Claude decided to pay a visit to his fellow House Leader way past any goddess-approved sleeping hour, but it was the first that he had decided to do it in such a fashion. He landed inside the bedroom with a muted thud —Dimitri actually using his carpet had its benefits— and reached up to rearrange his hair.

At times, Claude liked to switch things up. 

Spending time with Dimitri when neither of them could find rest because of reasons they had silently agreed not to share had become part habit, part secret, things they never mentioned during the day in the few times they got to interact in mixed class activities. They couldn’t say they knew each other; Claude barely knew Dimitri: he saw his own reflection in those blue eyes and stopped there. He knew the prince, the leader, the happy liar; Dimitri in turn was aware of even less about him, and it was fine to keep it that way.

Claude hadn’t changed his mind on that, but in his mid afternoon musings he’d overheard a few Golden Deer students talking, and he’d been busy thinking since then whether the idea taking shape in the corner of his consciousness that liked to throw caution in the wind was worth following or not. In the end the answer was yes, so after noticing Dimitri particularly was away in his thoughts for a good chunk of the day, Claude was in his room, through the window like they were about to do something forbidden, a coiled rope hanging from his waist. 

“Good evening, your Princeliness.” Claude took the rope from his waist and dangled it in front of Dimitri. “I’ve come to kidnap you, if you’ll so kindly let me.”

“What are you up to this time?” Dimitri asked, though he was eyeing the rope with suspicion, as if Claude had any actual chance of tying him up and whisking him away. “You could’ve at least—”

“Knocked? Nah. You know how Seteth is about breaking curfew, and the earful we got last time was enough for me.” Claude walked towards the bed and knelt by one of its legs. They were built sturdy and nailed to the floor, perfectly capable to hold their combined weight. He tied the rope to it with one of the sailor knots he’d learned when he snuck away to the port in his youth, and threw the other end out the window. 

“Seteth has a point,” Dimitri said, showing no sign of stopping Claude. 

“You say that, but you sneak out almost every night, and that’s far more than I do. After you.”

“Where are you taking me?” Dimitri gave the rope a tentative tug before hoisting over the windowsill. It held him without much strain, though the bed wood did creak at the weight. Dimitri slid down it. Both of them were dressed in their night clothes, so they avoided making any noise. Claude landed next to him and pressed a finger to Dimitri’s lips when Dimitri tried to speak again, shushing him.

“It’s a secret. This way.”

It wasn’t that much of a secret, truth be told, if Dimitri was the kind to pay any attention to the gossip and rumors that were exchanged between students during the most boring classes or while on stable duty. Claude had looked into it to check the truth behind all those words, and to his surprise there was more to it than the invention of a bored student. They had to cross a side of the garden and head towards the sauna, Claude always walked ahead of Dimitri to lead the way and make sure no Seteth or overzealous knight caught wind of them and sent them back to bed with red ears.

The tall walls that surrounded the monastery were at best impenetrable, and at worst a loose stone or two could be spotted in them, no gap big enough for a student to sneak outside. Except one, and Claude had found it early in the day, covered it back up with the overgrown moss that had been hiding it that entire time and proceeded to brew the rest of his plan. It didn’t involve much. One Claude, one Dimitri, clear skies and help from a certain Blue Lion of silver hair that liked to sneak into the kitchen as much as Claude liked to hoard books from the library and forget to give them back.

They reached the moss without difficulty, avoiding only a guard or two on their way. Claude pulled it aside and invited Dimitri to go through, when he finally started to show signs of hesitation. There were good reasons the monastery remained locked and students were not allowed to leave without permission, especially not in the dead of the night. The woods that extended beyond the safety Garreg Mach had to offer were the home to many a hungry beast. Dimitri’s expression said it all; they were two capable fighters, yes, but in their pyjamas, bed hair, and without any weapons.

Claude urged him forward regardless.

“I’m not fond of the idea of being eaten by a wolf. There’s none where we’re going. I already checked.”

“You already —Claude!”

Claude rolled his eyes, pushed Dimitri through the gap in the wall, and followed suit. A gentle slope with few trees led them towards the thick of the forest where Claude had set everything. It wouldn’t be more than a ten minute walk, a pleasant ten minutes where the pine trees would shield them from the actual wind and they could enjoy a more gentle chilliness. 

“This is dangerous.” Dimitri pulled out a stone that had gotten in his shoe, hopping in place. 

“Yep, it is.” Claude put on a smile, and the curve of his mouth carried some honesty to it unlike most of his smiles, one that he reserved for few people and that Dimitri had earned a right to. It wasn’t his full face, but enough for Dimitri to sigh and smile in return, a strange palpable fondness in the silence between them. A friendship that, deep down, Claudehoped would survive the harsh test of time and Claude’s own shortcomings, and help him escape his own loneliness. 

“Very well, but if we get in trouble, I  _ will  _ say you kidnapped me.” Dimitri’s tone carried some playfulness to it, and he stepped ahead to offer Claude his hand, without hesitation.

“And how did I manage such a feat?” Claude took it, finding certain comfort in the fact that both their hands were rough from ceaseless training as if war was an unavoidable reality of human condition. And if it was, Claude preferred to reserve that thought for later.

“You tell me, self proclaimed schemer.”

Claude hummed, and they walked down the path into the woods, for once side by side and not one ahead of the other. The silence surrounding them would’ve been harrowing to many, but for that brief period of time, it froze the moment in their memories. “I poured a love potion into your water,” he said, his voice on the verge of the laugh that was sure to follow once Dimitri became flustered at Claude’s joke, except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Dimitri kept looking ahead, his eyes reflecting the moonlight that filtered through the trees, serene and thoughtful as if Claude had solved a pressing mystery of life —and then he smiled, all consideration gone, and the words that followed would stick with Claude for years to come and all the way to when he would press Failnaught into Dimitri’s hand, looking for the same touch of that night in the forest. 

_ “You really might have.” _

_ _

Dimitri was never one for lavish celebrations, much less when he was meant to be the center of attention. The Officers’ Academy ball had been bearable despite there being eyes on him for being one of the House Leaders. Edelgard and Claude had shared the weight of those gazes with him, and he had called it an early night to have some time to himself instead. Coronation,  _ his _ coronation, was a different story, and no amount or type of excuses would suffice.

The crown was heavy and so was the scepter in his hands; throughout the entire ceremony, he waited for his ghosts to return and add to that weight, but there were no shadows in the throne room nor voices down the hallways that had no business being there. The dead had learned to stay dead in recent months, and the only place where he still saw them were dreams that he had not yet learned to get rid of. He sat on the balcony of the King’s quarters, now his.

The word king had felt surreal on the new Archbishop’s tongue; it still did, and the more he whispered it to himself the more Dimitri was certain he had died long ago, killed by the beasts that roamed the ruins of Garreg Mach, and the following years were nothing more than his dream in the afterlife.

Dimitri shook that thought away. Not far away from him, propped against the wall, Failnaught and the wear it had acquired through battles were a solid reminder of reality. Claude had been very real the last time they saw each other among the hanging ivies and lilypads of Derdriu’s canals — he had been very real all those years back when they snuck out in the middle of the night and the future leader of the Alliance had prepared a picnic for Dimitri among the trees and he had lacked the heart to tell Claude he could not taste it.

They never got to sit down and enjoy it; the smell had attracted wild wolves, and the two had to run back inside the safety of the wall with breathless laughs and sore legs from the rush of adrenaline, when Dimitri had been so close to kissing Claude and daring to touch those cheeks flushed from running. Not doing it did not linger as a regret, simply a what if, a question of whether anything would’ve gone differently if he had. Most likely not.

The King of Almyra Claude was as much a stranger as Leader of the Golden Dear Claude had been. Dimitri liked to think sometimes that there had been something there, a hint of the real Claude, and the letter in his hands that he’d read over and over for the past three days only made him wonder more.

_ Congratulations on your coronation, your Kingliness. Sorry I missed the party, I had some personal things to attend. To make up for it, I’ll be visiting soon enough with a gift, so wait for me. I’m coming as a friend and not the King of Almyra, but I’m certain our meeting will be the first step of trust between our lands. _

_ Claude. _

Garland Moon was a warm month, even in the mountains surrounding Fhirdiad. There was no wind, the heat was humid from the lakes nearby, and every time Dimitri swallowed nothing it remained stuck in his throat like the questions he had. Claude’s intentions eluded him, slipping onto the vagueness of the letter. Soon enough could be anytime for Claude, but not  _ soon enough  _ for Dimitri, who danced between wanting to see his old friend and the fear that the years and Dimitri’s problems had taken away the silent comfort they once had.

Maybe, just maybe, Claude also wanted to peel Dimitri’s carefully woven layers off the way Dimitri wanted to — maybe they both wished to be seen.

Dimitri got up to head back into his room and call it a night when the sound of something scraping against stone caught his attention. It was constant, calculated, accompanied by a different noise of a tool of sorts burying into the palace wall; it only took a split second for Dimitri to put two and two together that there was someone bold enough to attempt a dangerous climb into the king’s room in the middle of the night.

He unsheathed his dagger from his waist and leaned over the balustrade ready to confront the reckless assailant when a familiar mop of brown hair that pretended to be brushed came into view. Claude.

“...Claude?”

Claude looked up at Dimitri with wide green eyes filled with surprise. His hand slipped from the stone and he shrieked, but Dimitri was quick enough to grab it and pull him back up to the safety of the balcony, setting his disbelief aside for a moment to let the sensation of deja-vu sink in and slap his own cheeks. 

“Phew! That was close.” Claude let out a relieved sigh, looking unfazed, as if he hadn’t just snuck inside the royal palace of Faerghus without anyone so much as noticing. “Hey there, your Kingliness, please don’t scare the wyverns out of me next time I break into your room.”

“Next time? Claude, you could’ve at least—”

“Visited normally? Nah,” Claude said with a grin, and he moved at a closer distance. “Then your advisors would’ve made a huge fuss out of it. Diplomacy this, diplomacy that.” He reached behind his waist and pulled out a coiled rope, peeking beyond Dimitri to look for something to tie it to. Naturally, the bed looked the sturdiest, so Claude invited himself inside to do so. 

Dimitri followed him in sort of a daze after coming to the conclusion that he was as wide awake as he could get. He felt the thickness of the air even more, a strange lump in his throat. Claude was there, acting with their lost familiarity, and it hit Dimitri that he was not the only one who had been unable to let go of it. The tension in his shoulders dissipated as he watched Claude tie the knot with the same confidence as the last time, as the rope flew out the balcony and into the yard below.

He could have asked Claude how he’s been, but neither of them appreciated small talk. Dimitri had seen Claude avoid it many times, or change the subject, or simply find a way to ease out of conversations when they were shallow or only to fill the void, so instead he opted to do what his wildly beating heart called him to and descend down the rope with Claude in tow. “I never thought I would be sneaking out of my own palace.”

“I do it all the time.” Claude said once they were both down. “I’m very good at finding gaps in giant walls, it seems. You have a few.”

“Fhirdiad is well defended,” Dimitri tried not to sound offended, but he must’ve, because Claude laughed and it echoed into the night with the roughness of his voice. Claude’s laugh was a rare enough feat that Dimitri knew exactly what it sounded like —the very opposite of melodious, loud and overflowing, but brimming with the life and warmth of a man who held too much of that hidden.

“You say it is, but this is the third time I got in this week.”

Dimitri gave him a stare. “Third.”

“Yes. The first was to drop you that letter. Second, well, you’ll see. It’s a secret.”

A secret, but not one at all. Claude, in all his strangeness and aspects that Dimitri failed yet to understand, had a certain poetic way of approaching things and was a man that sought to find a meaning to everything; he had tried to find a meaning to the war that had wrecked Fódlan, and just like Dimitri, he was still trying to find a meaning to that night when they were both foolish enough to put their faith in the benevolence of the universe. Or maybe Claude had known, all along, which was why he had lived that moment so intensely.

They were but at a heartbeat’s distance as they snuck around the palace gardens and Dimitri made a mental note to tighten security, despite knowing Claude would still find a way in if he so wished. Among the carefully pruned trees and through the lilies, they descended by the side of the main stairs and into the alleys of the capital. Most of it was still run down, in the process of being rebuilt, nothing more than rubble to avoid when they circled the old main plaza and through a hole in the city wall barely big enough to fit Dimitri.

Once through, Dimitri looked up towards the moon for a moment, and when he cast his eye back down Claude’s hand was there, open, waiting, scarred and calloused and warm, just like Dimitri’s own. “Will there be wolves this time?” he found himself asking without thinking, and the blush on Claude’s face was enough of a reward.

“That was once! To think you’d be so mean to remind me of that...”

Dimitri took Claude’s hand, a touch that hadn’t changed, that wouldn’t change, and laughed out the happiness of his moment to the moon and stars watching over them.

__

“Since you can’t taste things, I at least tried to make the food cute.”

“Claude, I can’t eat a pink heart shaped sandwich! And who told you?”

“...Dedue and I have been in touch.”

__

Sunrise crept over the lake’s horizon, though the low hanging branches of the weeping willow they settled under didn’t allow it to shine right into Claude’s eyes. Dimitri was fast asleep on the blanket that Claude had set, his head in Claude’s lap, blond hair tangled messily with the stems of the flower crown Claude had made him. 

The real Claude and the real Dimitri would not stall that long to meet again.

**Author's Note:**

> yes they did kiss during the picnic


End file.
